


give me what i'm looking for

by antiheroblake



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), WandaVision (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Anxiety Attacks, Canon-Typical Violence, Co-workers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Past Relationship(s), Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reconciliation, SWORD (Marvel), Slow Burn, They have HISTORY, Trauma, ex avenger, fuck the government
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29348853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antiheroblake/pseuds/antiheroblake
Summary: An ex-Avenger is called to help on a missing person's case by an old friend. She isn't aware of how dire that will be for either of them.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis & Monica Rambeau & Jimmy Woo, Darcy Lewis & Original Female Character(s), Jimmy Woo/Original Female Character, Monica Rambeau & Original Female Character, Scott Lang & Jimmy Woo, Scott Lang & Original Female Character(s), Scott Lang/Hope Van Dyne, Vision (Marvel) & Original Female Character(s), Wanda Maximoff & Original Female Character(s), Wanda Maximoff/Vision, avengers & original female character
Comments: 14
Kudos: 60





	1. before the pilot

At first, she thinks it's the alarm going off; it's still too dark-no, it's the phone ringing. At 2:47 in the morning.

She lays flat for a second, comfortably cocooned under her blanket, and listens to the beeping. She wonders if she should answer it or not. Of course, if someone is calling this late, they probably need her, but she also wants to sleep. _Oh, how she wants to sleep._ It rings out; there are a few moments where all she can hear is her fan, her head is even sitting in silence. It's blissful. Then it starts again. The beeping frightens her the second time, her heart jumps into her throat. 

She rolls over and grabs the phone, goes to turn it on airplane mode until she sees the name on the screen _. James Woo (FBI)_. She stares at the screen for a few more seconds; it continues to ring. For a moment she debates whether she should just call him back in the morning before she sighs and finally answers it. If it's James calling, especially unannounced, she knows whatever he needs; it's important.

"Hello, James?" She asks, laying back down on her back and staring at the dark nothingness of her room.

"Astoria-"

"Do you know what time it is?" She interrupts. He wouldn't though, they haven't talked in months. "I'm in Moscow."

It sounds like he fiddles with the buttons on his phone. He's turning the volume down. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you weren't here." 

She clears her throat, "don't worry about it. What do you need?"

There's a pause on the other end. Static. "I'm working on a missing person case; there's something... strange about it. I wanted your help."

She closes her eyes and sighs into the phone, pulls it away from her ear. The FBI always wants her for strange cases. It was almost like clockwork. It didn't matter where she was, who she was pretending to be. They always called and she always agreed on going. Astoria wasn't exactly sure why she did; maybe it was a distraction-but she always ended up on a case. However, the only reason they ever call her for missing persons cases is always the same. The person must be missing and dead.

She can hear Jimmy, in his static voice, apologizing for bothering her. It's a low rumble compared to how he must really sound. She pushes up off her bed and pulls the phone back up to her ear.  
"Aren't there people for this?" She asks, "People who actually work for the FBI?"

"They already called in SWORD but I think this sort of thing may need more uh, others." _Others_. That word sticks out to her. Every time anyone has ever called her for a case they always refer to her likes this. She is other, she is not them. The outsider. She lost the ability to be one of them long before the Blip. 

Astoria hunches over. She's both tired and scared. She's hiding her body from the ghosts in the dark, the ghosts that he must need her for. The cool air from the fan wafts over her and causes goosebumps to bloom over her skin. SWORD should be able to handle it, but she knows James. Astoria has known him since she left the Avengers. He wouldn't call her unless he thought it was necessary. At this moment it doesn't feel like a good excuse to call her but she'll let it slide this once. It isn't killing her to be called. Though, she does wish he'd have done it at any other time.

He half laughs into the phone, "you owe me," he pauses again before quickly adding, "and you're coming off the record."

She does owe him though she never expected him to use the favor. She stands, walks towards her door, and flicks on the lights. She turns the phone speaker on; James is talking, talking, talking. Astoria isn't listening.

"James," she cuts him off, "forward me the information. I'll be on the first flight out." She waits for a few seconds before continuing. "When is SWORD coming?"

"They're sending someone in a few days. I was hoping you could be here before that." He says; something is happening in the background. He's moving something.

"First flight out," Astoria tells him like he should already know- _he should_. She hangs up before he can continue and sits back on her bed. Her head cradled in her hands; someone must be dead. That must be why they need her so badly. It's also probably why James called her instead of anyone else. 

If it had been anyone else calling, she probably wouldn't have answered it. Astoria wishes she hadn't. She does owe him; _big time_ -she knows that. She knows that there is no choice in this, she never breaks her word. Still, the idea of being back is excruciating. Her phone beeps again, a file has been shared with her.

Under her breath, she mumbles, "fuck me and fuck you, Jimmy."

-

When the plane lands in New York she can already hear the murmurs. It makes her body chill. The hairs on the back of her neck stand straight up. Something like anxiety, but worse, settles in her stomach. Fuck, she hates it here. Sure, she's not fond of anywhere these days but especially not here. There's been too much death here; it's too recent. She's happy for the chattering and the shuffling of the people around her. These little noises help drown out the dull whispers. 

It also helps that James is picking her up, she texted and told him he had to. She wasn't about to uber, plus being off the record means she can't have one of those amazing escorts. The FBI was good about escorting her to and from. James will do though, besides he can fill her in on any peculiar things left out of the files. Which there always are. He can also just talk in general which she has always appreciated, even when they first met. 

He's waiting for her outside the airport. A big smile like always and in his God awful FBI gear that she hates so much. He could have picked her up in regular clothes, she thinks. She doesn't nearly match his enthusiasm though she isn't upset to see him. He's an old friend; she'd be lying if she said she didn't miss him a little.

"Hey," she says and shakes his hand, "happy to know that I'm not here because someone's dead." That we currently know of.

He grabs her bag from her, "I know how you feel about those cases," it isn't like it was lost on him why she hated them. He's read her file, she's sure of it. "I think you'll be interested in this. It's... different than your usual."

"It better be, especially after that fucking flight. Do you know what it's like getting on a plane with a fake passport these days? Not as easy as you'd think." They walk towards the black SUV. "Even with the three billion people back like that, they were hounding my ass." 

There was never a reason she'd be back in the US. At least she thought that. It wasn't like she had much of a reason to be, nor did she care for enough people to make her want to. She preferred traveling over it. There was too much here, too much in Moscow as well. Not that she was planning on stay there much longer. "Once this is over, I'm leaving."

James puts her bag in the back, closes the trunk, looks in her direction. He knows how she is. "I'm sorry you have to be here."

She rolls her eyes and walks around the car, "no, you're not. If you were, you wouldn't have reminded me that I owed you." She slides into the passenger seat and buckles up. "Don't worry, whatever this is, I'm sure that we can get it solved relatively quickly."

He only hums in response.


	2. the beginning of the end

There's one day before they meet with SWORD agents to discuss the case. Astoria has gone over every file sent to her and then the ones in James's possession. Each file is practically the same. Lines are missing, scribbled through with black marker, the word _REDACTED_ sits on every page-over and over. This missing person is missing from their files as well.

She turns her chair with her feet; James hasn't met her eye yet, too busy reading over what his director has sent him.

"You know," she starts, leaning her head towards him, "this would be so much easier if I knew who exactly we were looking for."

He glances up at her and then back down at his phone for a moment. "That's not the problem with this case."

She purses her lips in an attempt not to laugh. James looks so genuine, so disheartened, more so than she's ever known him to be. When the seriousness doesn't fade, she sighs and leans back in her chair.

A few moments of silence pass before James's phone dings again with added information. She taps her fingers on the desk, trying to fill the space with some noise. The murmurs were getting louder the deeper into the silence she allowed herself. The begging, she would never get used to that.

It feels like he's playing a game with her. Barely giving her any information besides "it's complicated" and "REDACTED." He was keeping something from her. Whatever it is, she thinks to herself and all the murmurs; it must be worse than she thought. It doesn't matter, though. This case isn't the first, nor the last time she assumes she'll have to beg him for information.

"Will you at least tell me why it's strange. I know you're waiting for some big reveal, but the anticipation," her hand falls over her heart, clutching at her shirt," it's killing me."

The dramatics haven't changed. James is glad for it; she's been this way forever-or at least as long as he's known her. It's been months; a part of him was worried about the change-there always it one with her. The change always comes after months of miscommunication. One time it was her hair color; she went from dark brown to green. Another time it was her empathy; it disappeared and caused their friendship to fizzle for awhile. At least, whatever the change is, it isn't her humor.

James finally turns towards her, "I can't get in the town of Westview."

She shakes her head and looks at him, "I'm sorry you... _what_?"

"I don't know why; something's keeping me out." He shrugs, "I've gone and spoken to the police a few days ago; we'll speak to them again tomorrow, but they act like Westview doesn't even exist."

She breathes in and leans back again. "You want me to help get you in." It's barely above a whisper.

"Well, you are telekinetic."

Astoria laughs, "barely, these days. I should have known it would be that if it wasn't-"

James cuts her off before she can finish. "I didn't think you'd come if I told you."

"I owed you. I would have come either way."

The two sit. Astoria taps on the desk in front of her and waits. James knows she owed him, yet he hates it. The amount that she owed him was so little compared to all the things he probably owed her. For the past seven years, Astoria has helped him; come to his beck and call. He knows why she owes him, but he knows why she feels like she owes him more than that.

Astoria Everett was the first and only Avenger to quit the initiative legally and work primarily with the FBI. James was the sixth agent she met when she transferred over and, he's the only one the mutant woman talks to now that she's left them too.

"Have you talked to anyone... since the Blip," James asks, not that it's necessary, but not everything needs to be about work.

She breathes out and then coughs awkwardly. "I've spoken to a few people; Stark died. I got an invite to the funeral." She shakes her head as if she needs to agree with herself. Of course, she didn't go. Death means very little to her. "I've seen everyone... almost everyone-avoided some people. Natasha died too. I'm sure you've heard that too."

"I know you were close with her." That's only halfway true. They were close during the year-and-a-half Astoria worked as an Avenger.

"I haven't spoken to Natasha in years. She didn't even die here, so I can't talk to her at all." She pushes her chair back and stands. "I'm going for a walk. You're welcome to join, but I don't want to talk about the Avengers anymore."

James sits for a moment, unsure if he should, but he feels himself move without thought, and he's standing beside her. "I know you don't want to hear this but, it wasn't all of their faults."

She doesn't look at him; she grabs her coat and walks out of the motel room. He follows behind her. He's right; she knows it-they both know it. That doesn't matter anymore. Begging for forgiveness has never been her forte anyways.

James is cautious, makes sure he's a few steps back from her before he asks. "Have you spoken to Tony?"

She pauses, and he's already too close to her. Far too close. "Yes." Then she's walking again.

They walk; James talks. Not of anything of particular importance, but it's better than the conversation they were having before. They continue to walk for some time. She hums in response every few minutes so that he knows she's still listening.

After a while, her attitude changes. "I've spoken to Scott Lang." Seconds pass with no response. She stops and turns to look at him. "I'm not sure how but he got my number... asked why I didn't come to Stark's funeral. He asked about you, too."

"Did he?" James asks, "he never really liked me."

She laughs, really laughs. "Yes, Scott did-does. He does like you."

"What did he say?"

"That you're an ass."

James presses his lips together and nods. "I was just doing my job."

"Which included you being an ass," Astoria spoke candidly, as she always tends to.

"You helped."

"Okay, so. I was only there because I knew Scott, a little bit."

"You didn't like Scott," James looks at her. He knew she didn't. From the first time she came to Scott's house with him, he knew she didn't like him, and he knew why. "You weren't placed there because you knew him. _After_ -"

She immediately cuts him odd. "I tolerate him. Besides, Cassie liked me. Which, her being a kid was more important than what happened in Berlin. I can't be mad at a child for that." The two are facing each other; the town they're staying in is deserted. Probably, she assumes, has something to do with this magical town. "Also, it wasn't Scott's fault either-technically. Technically." The word technically is what's important.

He waits for a moment, "you were there to make him feel guilty. Which I never liked."

"I don't want to argue with you about the ethics of why the FBI had me work with you as Scott's house arrest officer." She sets her shoulders back, "I just wanted to tell you Scott asked about you. I know how you feel about ethics; believe me. I've known you for years. Not everyone in the FBI believes in your ethics, though."

He waits for her to speak again, but she turns and walks away from him. This time back towards the motel. "It's cold as fuck out here, James."

He sighs and follows behind her. That hadn't changed either. This wasn't the first time he had tried to get her to talk about Berlin. He knows that she needs to confront it. It's been seven years; all she's done is push it down down down. It's going to explode one day.

They walk back to the motel. James talks like he always does, and they act like there isn't anything wrong and that she's not there because she owes him.

The motel room air is stiff and cold when they come back in. The heater has shut off. Astoria immediately goes to turn it back on. The FBI was cheap, she knew, but this was probably the worst hole they could have picked.

"So, you want me to use my telekinesis to get into this town." She says, pressing her hands close to the hot air coming from the heater. "How exactly?"

"I'm not sure, but maybe when we get there, you can figure it out?" It's not a question. "You're smart besides; I've never really seen you use it to do anything... it's a longshot."

She sits on the edge of her bed and nods. She can try, of course, but she hadn't used that ability in months. Not to its full potential. She'll still try because she owes James.


	3. blast to the past

SAN FRANCISCO, 2016

She could hear them whispering about her, but it didn't compare to the screaming in her head. People hurried by her in the vast building. Some were passing paperwork from person to person, others were making their way to their offices, and others were leaving for cases that required their immediate attention. She was sitting in the hall outside the director's office, waiting to meet the agent that was now her assigned partner.

Her head ached, her body still wasn't completely healed from Berlin, and all she could think about is how this wasn't supposed to end like that. Steve Rogers promised her a community, an extended family. He told her parents that she would be safe with him. That he would make sure that she felt welcomed and was safe.

Oh, she thinks between the screams, how that turned out.

"Everett." She stands at her name; the tall FBI director is smiling at her-he feels pities her. "This is Agent James Woo; you'll be working alongside him."  
He sticks out his hand to shake hers, but she doesn't take it.

Instead, she takes him in before greeting him. He was taller than her, a bit older too. He was smiling, unlike the director, and it looked sincere. That is all she could ask for; no more pity, no more babying. She had enough of that from Stark before she left.

"Agent Woo, I'm Astoria Everett. I'm very pleased to meet you." She forces a smile.

"Everett is a medium and has some telekinetic abilities; however, she has asked to work where those abilities are not needed; for now, she'll be working with you. Until, of course, she's more comfortable using those abilities for us." The director nods to Woo. "Please, make her feel welcome."

The director pats Astoria on the shoulder before excusing himself.

James waits a moment before talking. "So, an Avenger. We don't get one of you every day."

"I'm not an Avenger anymore. At all." She deadpans. The air is thick, and James rocks back and forth on the heel of his feet, lips pressed tightly together.

He'd seen her before, a few times in the past. Once on TV, as well. She seemed like such a cheerful young woman, always smiling and laughing with her team. Now she's straight-faced and tired. There's a chartreuse bruise fading under her left eye, and her skin is pale, much paler than he'd ever noticed in the past.

"Well, you can walk with me to my office, and I can get you filled in on what I'm currently working on." James directs her to his office.

It's small but well organized; there are no pictures and no knickknacks. It looks like the office for a temp.

She observes the greyscale of the room. The only thing that gives away that this is an office in use is the old SHIELD hat sitting on a filing cabinet in the back corner.

"This is... nice." She pulls up a chair from the wall to sit across from James.

"Definitely nothing like what the Avengers had, I'm sure. But it isn't terrible." What he means to say is they don't have the budget of Tony Stark. He hopes that she is comfortable enough in such an enclosed space.

There's another brief moment of silence. It's awkward.

"Did you read my file?" It's unnecessary, of course, he did. It was probably handed to him a week or so ago.

"Yes." James seems like a funny little man to her. Genuine even.

She leans back in the chair. Tony had written up the freshest part of her file. There was a genuine curiosity about how much he had expressed about the conflict. "What did it say?"

"Well, it said you sustained serious injuries during the conflict in Berlin and that you requested to be placed elsewhere. Away from any; and all Avengers."

Astoria nods. Tony kept it as vague as possible but, in the end, it was all true. "People always believed the Avengers were close. That we were a family, I thought that for a while too. I was wrong."

"I don't want to intrude but, it doesn't say what serious injuries you sustained."

She breathes in sharply. There is no need to get into it. Her government-assigned therapist told her it is best to forgive and move on with life. Still, they will be working together for a while. "If someone isn't born with powers or gets them accidentally, agencies shouldn't bestow them with them. Not every person deserves to be enhanced." She closes her eyes, thinks back to that day.

_"We don't have to fight, guys. We can figure this out."_

"Sometimes nature knows best."

James waits for a second. "Well, whatever happened, I'm sure you'll heal. But, what I can say is I don't know why they assigned you with me. I'm a parole officer for Scott Lang." He does know why, actually. Tony Stark requested they work together specifically. He remembered James from his days in SHIELD and said he felt that James could help Astoria with her current "outlook on life," as Tony put it.

"Who?"

"You met him... in Berlin. He's the one that supposedly got pretty big."

She nods, "I heard he took a deal so he could be with his kid. That's nice. I don't know him, but I guess I will soon."

James pulls a file out from the drawer in his desk. "He's not a bad guy. I mean, he has done some bad stuff, but he isn't-bad."

There's loud talking outside the office. It sounds like two agents are having a heated discussion. "Don't worry about it. I'm not going to freak out and try to kill him or anything." James looks at her, shocked that she'd even say that. "I'm not crazy. I know my file might have said I said some crazy things before, but I was just in shock. Scott Lang isn't someone I'm worried about."

The people outside continue to talk. They can both hear them. Her name is brought up multiple times, and then his is as well. The two outside the office were two men. They had come to stand there with the specific intent to make it know they were upset with her placement with James. It would be fair to say that James Woo did not have the seniority to get an Ex-Avenger as a sidekick.

James pushes the file towards her. Unbothered by the people outside of the room. "A lot of people requested you to join them."

"I'll read Lang's file." She takes it. It's heavy in her hands, filled with many papers about Scott Lang and why exactly he sided with Steve. "I'm not upset with my placement."

NEW JERSEY, 2023

James is driving towards Westview. The town that is supposedly mysterious and lost. Their only real purpose is to find this witness that has now turned into a missing person. Whatever is taking over this town, she knows she wants nothing to do with it. She'll use her abilities to retrieve this person, and then she's gone.

There's music playing in the background. The radio volume is only on level five. Astoria can hardly make out the singer. She looks out the window at the fields and trees they pass. There is nothing extraordinary about the land around this town.

A few more minutes pass, she debates bringing it up but ultimately decides to. "Do you remember when we met?"

James doesn't answer her. He glances out the side of his eye but stays quiet. She wasn't one to reminisce on the past. She rarely spoke of her days as an Avenger or as an FBI assistant.

She waits for him to comment, expects it even. But he stays silent. "I've missed you, Jimmy."

He breathes in, swallows. "I missed you, too."

There are a few more minutes of silence. Westview is only fifteen minutes out. The voices are a soft hum right now; she's too content for them to be loud. She misses when they worked together and when she would follow him around on every case, every visit to Scott's house, even right after the Blip happened. Sometimes she wishes she would have never left.

"I remember when we met. You were a smartass those first few months." James finally acknowledges what she says.

"We shouldn't go so long without talking again. I might turn into a smartass again." She laughs.

James shakes his head. "You've always been a smartass, even before Berlin. I think you'll stay that way forever."

"Still." She looks over at him. "You don't have to call me just because some weird shit is happening, and you need enhanced human help."

James rolls his eyes and pulls the car over the side of the road. He quickly pulls out his phone to call the local law enforcement. "I'll try and keep that in mind next time I want to invite you over, and you're in... where? Russia?"

She laughs, "yeah, Russia."


	4. the world is vacant

Astoria looks out at the town of Westview. As far as she can tell, it's deserted. The only people are the two cops talking to James, who swear there is no Westview and them. Her head is buzzing, throbbing even. It hasn't felt this distressed since Berlin. Red hot heat is slowly crawling its way up her spine, and all she can think about is getting away.

The throbbing pounds, like someone is knocking, trying to get in. Saliva fills her mouth. James keeps talking, and the SWORD agent is just taking their slow time. The heat is at the back of her head now. She moves to get into the car, press her head against the dashboard, and turn the AC on high. Her hands shake, and she has to exert all her strength to open the door. Astoria is floundering; something like dread has made its way into her soul.

Her head falls onto the dashboard, and she waits for this to pass. Suddenly it feels like 2016 again.

The door opens beside her. "Hey, are you okay?"

She sits up straight and lays her head against the headrest, "yeah, I just feel sick."

James isn't unaware of what she means by sick. He remembers what it was like when they first started working together; how reactive she was to everything. Back then, she would always tell him that something horrible was coming-it rarely did-but she was so concerned by it. Every enhanced person they met put her on edge.

Hell, he thinks as he watches her try to swallow down her feelings, she couldn't even speak to Tony Stark over the phone for months after she had left the Avengers. He sees it again, the frightened young woman she was. He hoped that he would never see that woman once more.

"Astoria, if you want to, you can wait in here, and then I'll take you back to the motel so you can rest." He's babying her; they both know it.

Now it does feel like 2016.

She pushes herself out of the car and stomps down in front of him. The weakness hasn't left her, and the buzzing is still applying pressure to her head but, she'll manage. This feeling isn't the worst it's ever been.

He looks at her; she won't meet his eye. "I'm fine, James. I'm a big girl; I can handle a little nausea."

He walks behind her and back down towards the two annoyed cops. He knows she can handle herself but, it doesn't mean she has to do every single thing alone. James wishes she wouldn't try to.

The sound of a car makes him turn. "That must be the SWORD agent."

The dark-haired woman turns too and looks at the black SUV pulling up on the empty street. Once the car stops, a woman comes out and strides towards them. Her demeanor screams confidence; it screams government agent.

"James E. Woo, FBI." He flips his card out between his fingers and passes it towards the woman. "And this is Astoria Everett, she's-" he looks over at her.

"I'm not government-affiliated."

She takes the card and nods towards them.

"Monica Rambeau, SWORD. What's the story here, Agent Woo?" It's not that Monica has never seen agents call in outsider help; she just has never seen someone bring in ex-Avengers. Most of the Avengers either utterly hated the government or tried to work with it. Astoria Everett was one that, despite not being an international terrorist, she read had left working with the government sometime after the Blip.

James nods and starts, "I got a witness set up down the road in Westview, and this morning, it looked like he flew the coop."

Monica pauses, looks at him, and then to Astoria. "Your missing person is in the Witness Protection Program?"

"I've contacted known associates, relatives..."

"And let me guess, none of them have seen him either?"

"No, none of them have ever heard of them." He watches her face shift into confusion. "Something seemed hanky to me, so I took the first flight out of Oakland to interface with local law enforcement, and I called Astoria."

The heat is crawling up her spine again. The closer she gets to the town, the more dominating the feeling is. Astoria tries to swallow the feelings of despair. She tries to push it down, down, _down_.  
"That's when we," he gestures to Astoria, "encountered a new wrinkle."

Monica looks over at the woman for a brief moment. She realizes just how close she's standing next to Agent Woo; her hands are trembling but, she isn't sure if it's from the cold or not.

"What is that?"

James turns, and she follows; Astoria does not. She decides it's for the best she stays back a little until she gets herself in check. She remembers what happened last time she pushed herself too far.  
The two agents walk down towards the cops. "Pardon me, sheriff. Would you mind repeating your claim about Westview to my colleague here?"

"No such place." The sheriff said, matter of factly.

Monica looks at the man. His face is smug as if they've just asked the stupidest question known to man. "You're saying the town of Westview, New Jersey," she looks at the sign beside them, "doesn't exist?"

He shrugs and half points towards James, "It's what I keep telling your G-man here, but he won't listen."  
Monica nods, "I see. And, um, I'm sorry, what town are you from?"

"Eastview."

James looks over at her and then back at the cops, "Thank you, sheriff. I'll reach out if we need any further assistance."

The two agents turn and walk back up the incline. "I, uh, pulled phone numbers for all the residents. I'm only through the D's but, so far, I got diddly squat. Astoria tried to make contact with them, and she couldn't bring anyone back, so they aren't dead."

Monica doesn't really know much about Astoria Everett; she was the youngest Avenger in her time. She was able to commune with the dead in a way most mediums could not, and she left the Avengers after the conflict in Berlin. Why James would call her to come in, she doesn't know. Of course, she isn't supposed to. She can put two and two together and guess that James knows her from after her Avengers times.

She puts her hands in her pockets. "So you can't reach anyone inside, and everyone on the outside has some sort of selective amnesia?"

"This isn't a missing person's case, Captain Rambeau; it's a missing town. Population 3,892." James looks at the sign and then sighs.

"Why haven't you gone inside to investigate."

Astoria walks closer to them, as close as she's willing, "it doesn't want us to; no one is supposed to go in."

Monica turns and looks at the woman, "what do you mean?" She notices too that she doesn't get closer than necessary to her. She stays her distances.

Astoria tilts her head to one side, "can't you feel it? Whatever that is, it doesn't want anyone in. Especially the government."

James closes his eyes before speaking to Monica. "You'll have to forgive my colleague, she's a little skittish around government personnel."

Monica nods. Most people with her sort of abilities are, at least to some degree. She nods towards her car before walking to her SUV and popping the trunk. An entire town can't just go missing-not this way. She pulls out a drone, one of the latest models from SWORD headquarters. Places it down on the ground and starts up the controller. Monica tries to think rationally about it, not that anything in the past three weeks has been rational.

"What about you two?" She looks at James and Astoria.

"Me? I'm from Bakersfield, originally."

Astoria pats him on the back. "I don't think that's what she meant, James."

Monica gets the drone in the air before continuing. "Why aren't any of us affected by it? Are we outside of a certain radius or, is it because we have no personal connection?"

Astoria taps the toe of her shoe on the ground. "Maybe we just aren't important enough for it to matter."

The following events happen too quickly. The drone disappears. They all should have seen something like that coming but, Monica getting sucked into whatever force was holding that town was not expected.

The agent and the ex-Avenger stare in disbelief. The heat is under her skull.

Astoria turns away and stares out into the open field. Her mouth closes and then shuts. It feels like the Blip again. "That's... that's bad, James."

He pulls out his phone, dials, and puts his phone up to his ear. "I've got to call SWORD, don't," he stretches his arm out to Astoria as if to tell her to stay in place, "don't go near it."

She wouldn't, even if she wanted to. However, the look on James's face would put her in place immediately. He is concerned, more so than she's seen him in years.

SAN FRANCISCO, 2018

James glances at Astoria in the car. Her head is tilted down towards her phone, he thinks she's scrolling through Instagram, but he looked too quickly to tell. The day has gone smooth, for the most part. Only a few minor hiccups here and there. The radio is at a low buzz.

He turns the volume up slightly on the radio when a song she likes comes on. He is certain, for once in his life, things can't get better than this. They have one more place they need to stop before going back to Headquarters and starting their paperwork; then they can call it a day.

"Holy fuck, Jimmy. Do you see _that_?" He looks over at Astoria and then follows her eyes up towards the sky. There's a plane; it's descending fast to their left. Smoke is filling up from inside the city.

A car to the right of them runs off the road and into a building. He debates on whether he should stop. He should, he knows it, but there is a feeling set deep in his stomach that tells him to just keep driving.

People are running down the sides of the road, screaming others' names.

"Is it a terrorist attack?" She whispers, not really to him but, he's there to listen.

A person runs out in front of them, and James slams on the breaks. Before he can hit them, the person disintegrates to nothing but ash. Two more people on the side of the road do as well.

He swallows slowly and shakes his head. "I, I don't think so."

She turns her body and looks out the back. It looks like cars have been abandoned, people are flooding the streets, and there's more ash floating where people should be. This has to be a bad dream. She figures that in a few moments, she'll wake up in the bed, warm and protected. She'll wake up, and James won't look so terrified, and work will be work, and people won't be disintegrating in the streets.  
He continues to drive. The Avengers, he thinks, or what's left of them, will help. Whatever this is, they'll stop it. He watches three more people turn to ash before he moves his hand and grabs hers. Squeezes it and doesn't let go because she _can't_ disappear.

"Everything's gonna be okay." He repeats this until she closes her eyes and leans forward. His hand still in hers, she places her head on the dashboard. There is screaming in the back of her mind now; it's low and powerful.

His phone buzzes, but he doesn't check it. Not yet. He will when they're safe and out of the line of any accidents caused by whatever is happening.

James squeezes her hand again, "I promise, Astoria, I promise I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

She sighs and leans up; the screaming continues, but she pushes it down. James continues to drive as more chaos emerges. They just need to get to Headquarters. The car in front of them suddenly swerves; tailspins. Astoria reacts before James can, flinging her arm out in front of her, pushing the car off to the side before they slam into it.

She breathes heavily, drops his hand. He's worked with her for two years, and he's never seen her use her telekinesis. Not once.


	5. let the laugh track die

Astoria laid flat on the stiff motel bed. Her eyes are trained on the ceiling as James continued to make calls to who-God she doesn't know or care. The heat that was crawling up and down her spine has stopped pouring through her, but she knows it will be soon when she goes back to Westview. The heat, she's decided, must be from whatever is causing the anomaly. Her own powers must be reacting to it. 

James sits at the foot of the bed and ends his seventh call since Captain Monica Rambeau went missing two hours ago. "SWORD is... more or less taking over the case." 

She leans up on her elbows, "I think if that's the case, I should go." 

James turns and looks at her. "No, you still owe me." 

They both know that's not why he doesn't want her to go, but neither James nor Astoria is willing to say the real reason. She's moved; they're face to face now. There's a moment of deja vu between them; they've been here before. 

"I'm only staying because I owe you." She says before moving away and laying back down. "Don't get it twisted."

James smiles, chuckles, and stands. "Believe me; I won't." 

"SWORD is going to be here in the next few hours; get some rest," James nods towards her. 

James leans and puts his hand on her leg. "I promise, Astoria, I'm not gonna let anything happen to you." 

She doesn't acknowledge him, but he's always been good at keeping his promises. She stares at the ceiling again and thinks about all the promises James has made. The ones he kept and the ones he couldn't. It wasn't his fault, not really, those promises that weren't kept were made before the Blip, and the Blip changed everything. 

James looks at himself in the bathroom mirror. There is still a layer of mistrust in their relationship. After all this time, she hasn't completely forgiven him for what happened after the Blip. There was no amount of apologizing that could solve it; not then and not now. 

He walks out of the bathroom, looks towards her before walking out of the room. His phone buzzes in his pocket; he pulls it out and answers it. 

-

SWORD effortlessly takes over the entire operation. In a day, they've set up a complete base camp. Astoria follows behind James with her hands pressed deep into her pockets. She keeps her head down and her face out of eyesight. Nighttime is falling soon, and the rain has caused her hair to stick to her face. 

"I'll deal with Hayward-just follow behind me. I don't want them thinking you're unauthorized personnel." James nods to her and waits for her to acknowledge what he said. She looks up at him and nods, raining soaking her face as she does. 

He breathes in, the air is cold, and it feels like it freezes his lungs. He can tell by the look on Astoria's face that she's in pain again. Her eyes are glazed over, her skin is pale, and she barely smiles. He should ask, but they both know she'll lie and say nothing's wrong. 

Hayward meets them outside of one of the tents. "Agent Jimmy Woo," he nods and then looks at her. "And Astoria Everett. I was unaware that you two were permitted to work together again." 

Astoria and James look at each other. Hayward doesn't give them a moment to acknowledge what he said before he walks. The two follow behind him but keep a distance. 

"James," she whispers, "I really don't think it's a good idea for me to be here." 

The older man looks over at her and shakes his head, "it's fine-he has no idea what he's doing anyway." 

Yeah, she thinks, of course, he doesn't. He's sending a man into the sewer in an attempt to break through the anomaly. It doesn't matter though, Hayward will do what he wants; that's how all the agencies work.

James makes a move to follow behind Hayward in the rain. "Director Hayward, between you, me, and the bedpost, I am not confident about this mission." 

"Thanks for the feedback, Jimmy. If only my drones were as forthcoming." He's unamused by his statement. "The bedpost, is that the little dog that follows you around?" Hayward glances back towards Astoria. 

"It's just a figure of speech, sir." James wants to tell Hayward that his comment is inappropriate. He wants to tell him that Astoria is here to work and probably will be of more help than any person he can bring in. He wants to tell him to kindly fuck off. He doesn't though, now isn't the time. 

Astoria keeps her mouth shut. James will handle it, she's sure. The two move and pass through into another one of their pop-up tents. 

James is getting annoyed; in his own little way. Astoria can tell by the way the cadence of his voice changes. He's never been fond of people talking down to him, especially assholes like Hayward. "There's no reason to suspect the perimeter doesn't extend subterraneously." 

The director deadpans, "there's no reason to suspect it does."

There is a moment where James rolls his shoulders. Astoria notices it. This movement was frequent when he was upset with someone. The dark-haired woman has seen it time and time again, especially when dealing with people like Hayward. 

He sighs, "we don't know enough about the nature of the threat to send in another agent when the first has yet to return." 

The two stop at the nest of the tent, and Hayward nods towards James. "Someone must really miss you back at Quantico." 

James bites back what he wants to say. "No, sir. Softball season's over, sir." 

Hayward looks back at Astoria and rolls his eyes. "Well, someone else must have missed you to be here-what do we have up?"

He walks father into the nest, and one of his agents starts talking. "Radar," she points, "lidar," points, "sodar," points, "infrared." 

Astoria sighs and follows James on his way down. There's a particular reason she left the FBI, and it has to do with people like him. His little comments, his cocky personality, the way he feels like he's above everyone around him. If she was somewhere else, she would send him flying. 

"Cycle it through." 

She's not sure what they're looking at on the table in the center of the nest. It's some technology that is meant to show them whatever is happening inside the Westview Anomaly. If she's guessing right, they don't have any idea what's happening. It usually works like that when it comes to things like this.

Hayward sighs harshly before yelling, "Will someone get me a useful visual, damn it?"

As if on cue, a comedy laugh track starts. The agents and personnel look around. It sounds like someone is watching TV. 

Hayward starts walking towards it. "What is that; who's doing that?"

There's a voice, it's faint, but she's sure she's heard it before. Suddenly, she feels nauseous. The other people in the tent start moving, and she waits. When James moves, she moves. They walk towards the sound. It's an old TV, sitting on the desk of a woman who must have been called in when SWORD was scrambling to find anyone who might be able to help. 

Astoria stands behind the woman, and James leans against the desk. He immediately puts his hand out and presses it to the small of Astoria's back when he recognizes the woman on the screen, effectively keeping her from leaving. Her stomach drops, and she's almost sure she's going to puke. 

"Is that..." James's face morphs from confusion to worry. He feels Astoria shiver. 

"Yeah, it looks like her."

They all continue to watch. Astoria starts to move, to turn and release herself from James's grip. Wanda Maximoff is the last person Astoria Everett wants to see. Hell, she moved to San Fransico to make sure she never had to see her face again. And here she is, seven years later, sitting inside an Anomaly mere feet from her. 

She swallows the bile that's rising in her throat. 

"Look, I know it's been a crazy few years on this planet, but he's dead, right?" The woman looks at James. "Not Blipped. Dead."

Hayward stands, mouth open. "What am I looking at? You? What is this? Where's this coming from?" 

She looks over at him before throwing her hand back towards the Westview Anomaly. "Out there." 

"Is it authentic?" 

"I'm not sure how to answer that." 

"Is it happening in real-time? Is it recorded, fabricated?" 

Astoria closes her eyes, and James's hand is pushed into his jacket pocket. As soon as she's free, she starts to walk towards the exit of the tent. He doesn't call after her; she knows he's trying to do his job and limit the amount of a scene she could cause right now.

She can hear the woman answer Hayward's question with a resounding "I don't know" before she makes it to the doors and out into the rain. It's still pouring, and she doubles over and throws up everything she ate for the day. Her heart is beating so hard she can hear the blood rush in her ears; her chest squeezes so tight she feels like she may die. Tears are starting to form in her eyes; the heat in her spine has nothing on this-white hot fear.

Now she knows she needs to leave. She wipes her mouth and stands upright. Her legs shake, but she moves farther away from the tent, and she's in 2016 again. She's looking Wanda in the eyes, begging her to try and understand why she's sided with Tony. They were friends, she thought, she would get it. Then her head feels like it split in two.

She suddenly grabbed and brought back to the present day. The rain is pounding down around them, freezing her to the bone. Her jacket is soaked through, and her hair is stuck against her face. James is looking at her, obviously worried about her, like he always is. He cups her face with his hands and brings her a little closer to him. Her breathing is erratic, eyes wide. Her entire body is shaking, and he can't tell if it's from the cold or from who she just saw. The terror in her face is unlike anything he's ever seen. Even before, even in the beginning, it was never this bad.

"Hey," he says softly, trying to cover the urgency in his voice. Trying to make Astoria believe everything is okay. "You're fine. You're safe, okay?"

She shakes her head. "I can't, Jimmy. Fuck it, I can't." 

He directs her towards one of the tents, out of the cold rain. It's dark inside, currently unused. 

"Just breathe; she can't hurt you." He's been here before. Sure, it's never been quite this bad, she's never had to look at Wanda, but it's been bad. 

"Do you need anything? Maybe some water?" 

She nods, it's hard to see in the dark of the tent, but he knows she does. 

"You're safe; just breathe."


	6. wandavision, the sitcom

"First and foremost, our main objective is to get any intel on Captain Rambeau, but originally, this case was a missing person, so we're going to start there. We've successfully identified two individuals inside the Westview anomaly. Let's keep going." James says, falling into his leadership role with ease.

Astoria watches the SWORD agents run around, a cold cup of water in her hands. They call out different names and faces, and IDs get placed on a whiteboard. In the center sits Wanda Maximoff and The Vision. She's practically useless, staring blankly at the photos on the wall. In the background, she can hear Wanda and Vision talking. 

James pauses and looks at Astoria. She's still pale and shaking, but she's less frail. If looks could kill, Wanda Maximoff would be dead three times over. It's almost sad how Wanda makes her feel. Astoria used to tell James she wished that she and Wanda could be friends again someday. That, however, quickly faded as her abilities became less controllable and her anxiety attacks became more pronounced. 

He doesn't bother her; he knows she needs time to herself to sort out her current feelings. She'll come and talk to him when she's ready. He takes a look over the whiteboard, at all his notes. There are so many questions. Then he checks the list of people that they've identified so far. Darcy walks up beside him and hands him another picture and ID. 

She looks at James and then behind them at Astoria. She saw James leave to follow behind her, and she saw when he brought her back into the tent. A hand on her shoulder, directing her where to go and what to do. "Is she okay?"

James presses his lips together and then nods, never taking his eyes off of the board of people. "She will be." 

Darcy looks at the board, mimicking James. "Bad blood?"

James shrugs. He knows it isn't his story to tell and that most things she wants to keep to herself. "Wanda was like an older sister to her, but when the Avengers broke up, some things happened between them happened that aren't so easily forgivable." 

Astoria told him that Wanda was upset with her for siding with Tony. She felt that Astoria had betrayed their friendship. That she used her abilities, whatever they are, to rip her control away from her mediumship. 

Dancy nods but still waits, "well, it's good she's got a friend like you."

James breathes in and slumps back in the chair slightly. He thinks about that. Is she lucky? If it not for him, she'd be in Moscow, living the life they used to talk about having. No, instead, she's sitting in a chair, post-anxiety attack, trying to swallow all her trauma so she can help him. Why? Because she owes him one. 

She looks back again at the girl sitting in a chair in the corner and then back at the board. Darcy can recall when she was an Avenger. She even recalls when Tony Stark announced that Astoria would be working with the FBI after the Berlin Conflict. "Unless you aren't friends... just oddly close colleagues?" 

"Yeah, we're friends." Darcy jumps; Astoria is standing to James's left now. She didn't even see her walk up to them. 

Her sudden appearance doesn't phase him in the slightest. "What do you make of all of this?" He throws his hand up towards the board. 

Her voice is small, uneven. Both James and Darcy can tell she's uncomfortable with the situation. Pushing through wave after wave of emotional contritions. "I don't know; this isn't like anything I've seen." 

James looks around them before whispering, "is Vision alive?" 

Her throat jumps, and she stares at the picture of him. "I can't really tell. I can't talk to Vision, but I can feel him if I try hard enough. It's like he's flickering in and out." 

"Is there a way you could contact him when he flickers out?" Darcy asks. 

Something flashes over her face but, as soon as it's there, it's gone again. Astoria looks towards the ground. "I mean, I could try, but I have no idea what would happen if I used it to that extent. But if we need to-"

James cuts her off before she can finish the sentence. "You aren't going to; that's not even on the table to try."

She turns and looks at him. Darcy can place this look; she's annoyed. An argument is coming, and by the way Astoria is looking at James, it's been building up for a long time.

"Well, I'm going to go get food and then check out the TV. Maybe something new is happening." Darcy nods to them before quickly excusing herself. 

Darcy isn't foolish. She can tell that there's some kind of history there. She isn't sure what it is, she doesn't know either of them well enough yet, but Darcy knows that she is not trying to get stuck in the middle of an ex-Avenger and an FBI agent's little quarrel. 

What's more important to her is the fact that SWORD, a multimillion-dollar agency, is feeding her cup noodles. But that is neither here nor there, she supposes. 

She looks over to the other side of the tent. James and Astoria are talking. It seems moderately heated, but they're both remaining composed. Yeah, she doesn't want to be inside the quarrel, but she definitely wants to know what it's about. Though, she knows she probably never will. 

The microwave beeps, and she takes out the cup and then walks back towards her desk. When she gets closer, she can hear James and Astoria talking. 

"Do you remember what happened last time? You can't do that to yourself again."

"That was two years ago, James. We don't know if something's changed."

Darcy tells herself it isn't her business. Whatever they're talking about is between them and doesn't have anything to do with her. Even if she really does want to eavesdrop. Rather than be nosy, she directs her attention to the screen sitting on her desk. 

On the black and white screen is one, Monica Rambeau. 

-

The three sit, watching the screen. It was undeniably Monica on the TV. "Does she seem okay to you guys?" 

"Well," James starts, "she doesn't appear to be harmed in any way, but that is definitely not the boss lady I met yesterday."

Astoria leans forward a little, focuses Wanda out of the screen, and looks at Monica. "Well, she certainly looks to be with the theme." 

The more this unfolds, the more it doesn't make sense. Suddenly Monica is a background character, although she wasn't even originally in Westview. The longer it goes on, the more questions they all have. 

It isn't that she's doing anything of importance either. She's just reading the newspaper and going about her business like she's a resident. There's nothing to really see. She is practically invisible. 

Darcy looks at the two sitting beside her. "So what, deep cover? Monica has to play along?"

James looks at her, but Astoria keeps her eyes fixated on the screen. "With whom? Or else, what? All right. Brass tacks, Dr. Lewis. What are we lookin' at here? Is it an alternate reality? Time travel? Some cockamamie social experiment?"

Darcy shrugs. "It's a sitcom. A 1950s sitcom." 

"But why?" 

Astoria almost laughs at James's question. It's the question of the hour. Why? Figure out the why, and you can figure out that who, what, and where. There is no rhyme or reason though, this exists, and it needs to be stopped. Simple as that. 

Darcy rolls her eyes. "Hey, man, we're working with the same scarcity of intel."

Astoria leans back and closes her eyes. She thinks back about those days when they'd have not a single thing to do. When missions weren't every day and Tony would let them do as they pleased. "Wanda likes sitcoms." 

They both look at her. "What do you mean, Wanda likes sitcoms?"

Astoria keeps her head tilted back. The anxiety is tiny now; it's staying nestled into her chest. But the pain, the pain is back. "Wanda likes sitcoms. We used to watch them together."

James twists totally in his seat until he's facing her. "Is that your theory?"

Astoria sighs and looks at him. "No, that isn't my theory. My theory-now that I've actually sat down and looked at this is that someone is using Wanda. Maybe they have something to gain? Maybe they're trying to use her powers to do something?" 

"So, just because this is a sitcom, you think that Wanda is being manipulated." Darcy raises her eyebrows and nods, "got it."

Astoria swats at her. "Hey, I don't see you clowns coming up with a better answer. Maybe it's just presumptive of me, but I'm telling you what I know. Take it as an educated guess." 

"Okay, if someone is forcing this to happen, we need to talk to her." James says, "maybe we can help her stop it."

Darcy smiles and looks at them. "I have an idea." 

-

"So, you've seen that radio in Wanda's kitchen counter, right? The next time she's washing dishes, which, by my count, happens about once an episode, barf, we'll shoot a signal to that little guy. This transmitter will mimic the frequency of the broadcast, and if my theory is right, allow us to speak directly to her. This is totally gonna work." She looks at James, "don't touch that."

Astoria stands off to the side, closer the James. It's also something Darcy has noted in the last few hours. If James is somewhere, so is Astoria, and vice versa. "Also, do you two have to always be around each other? Not that I care but is it like a package deal kind of thing? If so, it's a great way to always keep tabs on each other." 

Astoria laughs at that. A memory from when she worked with the Bureau passes through her mind. "No, we don't. I'll actually be going back to the tent with you." 

"Nice." Darcy smiles at her.

Darcy continues to set up her machine. The cold is prickly against Astoria's skin. Her soaked jacket is sitting inside, and she's unable to go back to the motel and get another one. In the back of her mind, she wants to ask James for his, but that would be unprofessional. 

One of the agents walks up with a paper in her hands. "Agent Woo."

James takes the paper; confusion settles on his face. "Is this from the current episode?"

The woman nods. "Aired about two minutes ago."

Astoria walks up to James and looks at the paper in his hands. She knits her eyebrows together, gaping at what he holds in his hands. The toy helicopter in the picture is both colorized and has the SWORD logo on the side. 

Darcy moves towards them. "What is it?"

He tilts the paper so she can see it too. "What does it look like to you?"

She's taken aback by it too. None of them were ready for this, but it makes sense, giving what Monica is currently doing. "Like a retro version of a SWORD Drone?"

"Like the ones they've been sending in all day," Astoria adds. Which is great, she thinks; at least they know why they can't see anything on them anymore. 

James nods. "Bingo."

"But how did it change and why?" Darcy questions, and it's not really a question to be answered, but it has to be for them to get anywhere. 

James shrugs and moves the paper into one hand. "Uh, to go with the production design?"

Darcy looks up at him. "Or render it useless."

James breathes in. None of this is making sense. Every time he feels like they're getting somewhere, something happens, and they're pushed three steps back. "Why'd you colorize it?"

The agent shakes her head. "I didn't."

"Let's get this show on the road." Darcy moves past James, and Astoria follows. The two women make their way up the hill and into the tent. They've got one chance to get in contact with Wanda and really have it mean something.

Once inside the tent, Astoria sits and watches as Darcy puts on her headset. "Jimmy, you ready?"

She knows that this has to work. James has to make contact with Wanda and try to help her, or this could go on for weeks. The phone in her pocket is firm, and she thinks about it, about who she should call if this doesn't work. There's a number in her mind, but she can't be sure even he can help.

She can't hear James, and she's not really a necessity, but she sits beside Darcy and watches the screen. James tries to contact Wanda, especially after Monica becomes a side character, but it doesn't help. The audio suddenly turns to static, there's a moment where both Wanda and the blonde woman on the screen look terrified, and then it cuts. The episode continues. 

"Did you just see that?" Astoria leans in. 

"Wait, that was weird." Darcy fiddles with the TV, but nothing happens. She and Astoria look at each other for a moment before she continues into the mic, responding to whatever James has said that Astoria couldn't hear. 

"Nothing, it's over. Mission failure." A few seconds pass, and Darcy continues. "Yeah, come on in." 

She removes her headset and slips back into her chair. Her posture gives away her attitude; she's upset about it. It was a good idea, even if it didn't work out. Better than something she could have come up with. 

"I'm sure James will come up with a new idea; he's good at that." Astoria tries, pats her on the shoulder. "If not, you can always continue to watch the show. I'm sure it won't be stopping anytime soon."

Darcy looks outside to where James is putting up the equipment and then at Astoria. It's not my business, she keeps telling herself, but it's piqued her interest. "Why do you call him that?"

She almost laughs at the question. "What?"

Darcy turns and looks at her. To look her dead in the eyes and see if she can place what she's feeling. "He goes by Jimmy, and I know you two know each other pretty well; why don't you call him that."

Astoria waits for a second. Tries to figure out the right words. She can remember when she stopped calling him Jimmy. She remembers how to felt the first time she called him James. The crestfallen look on his face; the way he knew there was no coming back. 

Astoria looks at her, gives a tight smile. "Because it adds a wall between him and me."

"And you want that?" A few awkward moments of silence pass. "I know it isn't really my business, but like, he obviously cares about you, and you care about him, I think."

That question has run circles around her mind. For the past four years, she's wondered if she made the right choice. Astoria's mom told her that if she questioned her choice for longer than a day, it was the wrong one. However, it's too late now. Four years too late. 

Astoria waits until she hears the tent doors open. So she knows the conversation will end after she responds. 

"No, not anymore. But it doesn't matter now."


	7. sleep deprivation

The tent is slowly accumulating more television sets as the night goes on. The three are sat at Darcy's desk while the screen plays episode after episode. Astoria is only half paying attention. Nothing of particular interest has been happening, and she knows that watching too much will send her into another frenzy. She's attempting to gradually immerse herself into the show.

"1950s, 1960s, and now the '70s. Why does it keep switching time periods? It can't be purely for my enjoyment, can it?" Darcy is more than just a little exhausted with the brainstorming; she knows eventually something's got to give so they can figure more of the Anamoly out.

James stares at the TV in front of him. "And I can't believe Wanda and Vision are having a baby."

Astoria tilts the chair back until only two of the feet are sitting on the ground. "Wanda always wanted kids, so, if this is like, her perfect reality, then it makes sense."

"I mean, she is the main character too. And she's married. Good for her." Darcy nods and tilts the bag of chips towards Astoria. The younger woman takes one before Darcy leans it towards James. "You want any?"

James smiles, "Heck, I thought about it for sure. A little Jimmy Woo. Get him a tiny little FBI badge. Oh, you... Chip? Sure."

"You're getting a little old there for kids, James." Astoria laughs. She's right, and he knows it. He's indisputably past his prime, and having a kid would require him to change his priorities a lot. She told him that before too.

James looks away from her and back towards the screen.

Darcy puts her chips to the side. Monica is sitting in front of Wanda, going through her breathing exercises. "The jig is up."

All three lean forward as Monica places a little baby on Wanda's chest. It's a sweet moment, albeit terrifying because of where it's happening. A few more moments pass, and there's another baby. Astoria isn't shocked by this; Wanda was a twin so, why wouldn't she have twins in this idyllic reality.

Darcy smiles, "twins. What a twist."

James and Astoria both look at her. It's halfway judging. None of them know how real any of this is, and Darcy makes it easy to forget there are real people stuck inside Westview.

She shrugs, and her tone shifts to one that sits on the edge of defensive. "What? I'm invested."

Then one word catches all of their attention. Ultron.

Ultron isn't something that gets mentioned often. The last time Astoria heard that name was when the Sokovia Accords were ready to sign. After she left the Avengers, that name was never uttered again. It was, more or less, something that didn't feel relevant to her life.

James almost jumps up from hearing it. This is it; it has to be. The thing that will set off how the rest of this investigation goes. "Did she just say the name Ultron? Has that happened before? A reference to our reality."

Darcy knits her eyebrows together. She knows it too-this is the pinnacle. "No. Never."

Astoria notices it. The tone change. Wanda sounds like she did in Berlin. Accusing, determined, scared-

"This is new," Darcy says, but Astoria's already up and moving.

She shakes her head, paces behind them, and thinks about what this could mean. She's questioning Monica now; she can hear it in the background. The heat that had died down is building again in the base of her skull.

"I think, I think we may have gotten this all wrong," Astoria mumbles; the heat explodes in the base of her skull and drips down her spine. Moving like an injection through her entire body.

"Astoria?" James turns to look at her. She's sweating, white as a sheet, and her jaw trembles.

"I know why my head hurts," she starts before looking at James. Her eyes focus on him for a split second before the heat evaporates again, becoming a dull migraine. Her eyes move to the screen, and James follows.

Monica is there, Wanda is staring her down, then the TV skips, and she's sitting with Vision and the babies on the couch.

James looks from the screen to Darcy. "What happened? Where'd she go?"

He feels Astoria standing behind him. Her right hand is placed on the back of his chair, her left is on his shoulder. He knows she's watching the TV now. _I know why my head hurts._ That could mean a million things, it could mean nothing, but he's gaining an idea of what it could be-what it probably is that's making her head hurt. It's the same thing that ripped her control from her in Berlin.

Darcy sighs and pulls the recording back. "God, not again."

It rewinds and plays the same. Monica is there, and then she isn't. James hears Astoria sigh. It's heavy, tired. She squeezes his shoulder then releases, leaving her hand softly against the material of his jacket. If this was a different time-if they weren't here, he would enjoy this little affection.

"There's nothing here. One second, Monica is standing right there, and the next, she isn't. Someone is censoring the broadcast." Darcy looks over at them. Her eyes glance at Astoria's hand, only for a moment, but they both notice it.

It's practically muscle memory to move her hand away from his shoulder. It's been years, but she still remembers to do it. Astoria knows she probably should have never done it in the first place, not now, not then either.

"Of course. Idyllic worlds don't have mentions of murderous robots." Astoria moves away from James and sits back beside Darcy. Her hand is placed firming against her leg, and she doesn't move her eyes from the screen, not even when she feels James's eyes on her.

He straightens his back at the loss of contact but doesn't acknowledge it. Instead, he wonders aloud. "But where's Rambeau?"

Blaring alarms set off across the entire impromptu campsite.

All three of them stand and immediately go for the doors. There's Monica.

James is the first one of them to be on the field and by her. He's already talking to her by the time Astoria kneels down. Monica is wide-eyed and gaping.

"It's all Wanda."

-

James and Astoria sit in his car. The sun is finally peaking up over the treeline. In her hands in a cup of coffee, it's watered down because SWORD is cheap, but that's not what's important. She's tired. The migraine is sitting, dull and unwavering at the base of her skull. The voices are mute compared to the pain.

James is playing music, something old. She doesn't know the name of the song, but the melody is pleasant enough. SWORD was kind enough to let them shower and change clothes. Darcy, as soon as she's done, will be headed towards the car too.

"I'm sorry I brought you here," James says and then sips his coffee.

She laughs, "I owed you."

He shakes his head and looks over at her. "No, you didn't. You know that."

No, she didn't. At least, not in this way. However, if it meant she could see James, even for a few days, she was willing to pretend the favor was about work and not something much more mundane.

She places her coffee in the cup holder and twists in the seat to look at him. "I promised you if you ever needed me, I would come."

"Yeah, well, now we're both in New Jersey, and one of the Avengers is holding an entire town hostage. One that you hate-might I add. Not sure how you planned to spend the next couple of days, but I'm sure it wasn't this." He closes his eyes; fatigue is setting in.

Astoria's eyes are heavy. Her entire body is ready to give up, but she knows there won't be sleeping. At least not yet. There are a lot of things he wants to say. A lot of things she should have years before not, and a lot she still can't.

"I was going to move. I was going to leave Moscow and go towards Romania maybe. I'm not really sure." She leans back until her head is pressed to the glass, and her legs are pressed against her chest. "I was just going to keep running."

"After all of this, you can go to Romania if you want." James mumbles and half expects her not to respond.

Ever since she left the FBI, she's moved from place to place. Not that James necessarily blames her. Each organization she's worked for has fucked her over in the end. Someone in the organization has fucked her over. Astoria isn't dumb; she knows that moving is the best way to avoid working for any organization again.

In a way, she's getting what they talked about anyway. Leaving the things that hold them down the most, traveling around the world. Meeting new people, learning new things.

"I don't want to go to _Romania_ , Jimmy." She says softly. She sounds like she did when they worked together.

He moves to look at her. For a moment, he can see that she means it. There are unspoken words mixed into that, and he can't always read between the lines, but he can now. There is something she wants more than to run and hope the voices and the past don't catch back up with her. Something she's wanted for the past four years, something he knows she wishes for.

He leans a little closer to her. "Astoria-"

The back door opens, and Darcy slides into the backseat, then she slams it behind her. Astoria jumps in her seat, her eyes go wind for a second, she places her hand over her heart.

She breathes out, "dear fuck, Darcy. You scared me."

Darcy apologizes quickly, then continues, "hope I'm not interrupting whatever you two were doing... but I got some snacks."

Astoria moves and takes a bag from Darcy. "No, you're not really interrupting anything. Just reminiscing on my days with the Feds."

Darcy offers James a bag, but he declines it. "Which I still find weird since you apparently hate the government."

Astoria smiles and shrugs. "What can I say; the government pays well when you have a talent to offer them."

The two women continue to talk, and James thinks about what Astoria said. It's his fault she left anyway; of course, he wishes she'd come back. He shouldn't have given her an ultimatum.


End file.
